


Of Kittens and Cabbages

by fitz_y



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-14
Updated: 2011-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:23:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitz_y/pseuds/fitz_y
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uther the deer threatens to ruin Morgana and Gwen’s perfectly good evening in the garden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Kittens and Cabbages

**Author's Note:**

> You guys, THIS is what happens when you order me to not write a drop of angst. I don’t even know. I did a lot of research for this one: 1) I spent an evening in a friend’s garden watching kittens play. 2) I watched [this video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CNuJNeMhxQ&feature=related). SO MUCH RESEARCH. From the [](http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/profile)[**summerpornathon**](http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/) 2011 entry: happy endings.  
>  ETA: Oh, oh, and I should mention, I was inspired by [this adorable art](http://notfairytales.livejournal.com/22628.html#cutid1) that [](http://notfairytales.livejournal.com/profile)[**notfairytales**](http://notfairytales.livejournal.com/) made for me earlier this year as a birthday present. It's the background for my desktop.

Dusk was sneaking in gently, the air hazy, thick with the weighty heat of the day and the lull of murmuring insects. Gwen shoved a stray curl off her sweaty forehead, peering down the bean row to where Morgana sat, her rocking chair creaking as it swished over the long grass. A mint julep in her hand, the shotgun by her feet, her long hair twisted into a high bun, a streak of dirt by her cheekbone, and Arthur squirming in her lap, she looked like the perfect portrait of country contentment. Well, except for the shotgun.

As she approached the pair through the cabbage rows, Arthur glanced up at her with wide blue eyes, opening his mouth to mew and expose sharp miniature teeth. She leaned down and scratched at the orange fur behind his ears. He flopped onto his back, showing off his striped belly and purring.

“Such a slut,” Morgana snickered. “He always has to be the center of attention.”

“At least he’s not the troublemaker Merlin is. I kept having to swat him on the nose to keep him from the beans.”

Morgana rocked forward and leaned up to brush a lingering kiss on Gwen’s lips that sent a warm tendril snaking through her. She planted both hands on the armrests, and tipped Morgana backwards, nosing along her jaw, licking at her pulse point.

“You taste like summer,” she breathed into her salty skin. Gwen kissed up her neck, bit her earlobe and stepped back, letting the momentum of the chair rock Morgana forward.

“Now you’ve gone and made me spill my mint julep,” Morgana pouted, shaking out her dripping right hand, but there was a bright flush on her cheeks that had nothing to do with the high temperature.

Grinning, Gwen took the julep away from her, set it down, and swept her tongue over the dampness on Morgana’s wrist.

Just then Arthur let out a squeak and scrambled up Morgana’s chest, clawing his way across her shoulders.

“Dammit, Arthur!” she screeched as she dug him off and tossed him gently off.

He looked back at her for one long moment, stuck his stubby tail straight up and toddled off into the beet greens on wobbly legs.

Gwen chuckled and straightened. “He hates it when we kiss.” She paused, holding Morgana’s hungry gaze as she inched the hem of her own short jean skirt up, snuck her fingers under it, and tugged off her bright red thong, stepping out of it.

“Looks like we’re getting our first pepper of the summer,” she said casually as she climbed onto the rocking chair, one leg on either side of Morgana, sending the chair tilting crazily under the added weight.

“Let’s just hope Uther doesn’t get it,” Morgana said grimly before winding her fingers into Gwen’s curls and tugging her close.

“Uther?”

“The bastard deer who ate my leeks.”

“But, Morgs, that deer is a doe. Uther’s a male name.”

“No matter. That evil creature is determined to ruin my life and deprive us of food.”

“I hardly think we’ll suffer for lack of a few leeks.”

“Ha, you say that now.” Morgana had wedged her hand, still sticky with alcohol, between Gwen’s legs and was tracing light circles on the inside of her thighs. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

Gwen complied, losing herself in the wet give and take of Morgana’s mouth, the buzz of heat under her skin matching the fevered temperature of the heavy air, beads of sweat tracing down the back of her neck.

Squeals interrupted them, and they looked over to see Arthur tackling Merlin, both his forelegs wrapped around his neck, small jaw nipping at his scruff, back legs kicking furiously as they tumbled and squirmed into the cabbages, an indistinguishable mess of fur. With an excited yip, Merlin worked free of Arthur’s headlock and scampered through the garden, a streak of midnight-black, with Arthur hot on his paws.

Gwen laughed and went back to sucking lazy kisses into Morgana’s neck, but Morgana stilled her with a touch, pushing her upright. “Shhh. Uther’s back.” She leaned toward the gun.

“No, Morgana, don’t.” Gwen clamped her thighs down, locking Morgana in place.

“But he’s stealing our food!” Morgana hissed.

“Which we have more than plenty of! Plus, _she_ is harmless, and . . .”

A high-pitched sound pierced the air, like someone had recorded a creaking door and was blaring it through high-voltage speakers. Gwen jumped. “What the hell?”

The doe was racing away, bucking wildly and bleating; two furry forms clung to her neck. With a particularly violent toss of her head, she flung the two tenuous balls of fuzz and claws to the ground. Snorting disdainfully, the doe pranced hurriedly off into the twilight.

“Haha! Our boys scared Uther away!” Morgana crowed as Gwen shook with laughter. “I’ve trained them well.”

“You’ve done no such thing and you know it.”

Morgana resumed teasing her fingers over Gwen’s thighs.

“Oh, shush. Let me have my illusions,” Morgana retorted, slipping two, then three fingers gently inside Gwen.

The chair swayed, Gwen gasped and arched forward, reply dying on her lips, as evening drifted down around them and the kittens sprinted after fireflies flirting in the garden.

  



End file.
